


Two Princes

by Clocks



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Remix, remix madness 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocks/pseuds/Clocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with being a prince, Erik decided, was that he was expected to do a lot of princely crap.</p><p>[A remix of Butterynutjob’s ‘The Prince in the Tower’]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Princes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Prince in the Tower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551343) by [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob) in the [xmen_remix_madness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2015) collection. 



> A big thank you to my beta, the eternally patient [xsilverdreamsx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xsilverdreamsx/pseuds/xsilverdreamsx). This is also for [Butterynutjob](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/pseuds/Butterynutjob), whose fics I have enjoyed immensely.

 

 

The problem with being a prince, Erik decided, was that he was expected to do a lot of princely crap.

Some of his royal duties were reasonably tolerable, at least. He was required to turn up at the more important royal functions, in a show of support to his parents (who were both doing a damn fine job of running the country without his help). Really, all he had to do was look relatively imposing and try not to trip over the carpet. Azazel as usual was right: any moron could do the job standing on their head.

His other duties included ribbon-cutting ceremonies and speeches, welcoming foreign dignitaries who weren’t high-level enough to merit a personal welcome from the King and Queen, and being introduced to various noblewomen who all seemed very fond of brushing imaginary lint off his chest.

It was all very tedious, at best, except for the fact that Erik was expected to marry one of these noblewomen one day.

“You can just tell your parents you don’t want to get married,” Azazel said, his tail twitching back and forth as Janos hummed in agreement. All three of them were hanging out on the roof with a prized bottle of Genoshan whiskey, the sun setting in the horizon. This side of the roof overlooked the training courtyard, and they were watching Sir Logan shout at the new, useless batch of squires.

Erik sighed, pouring himself two generous fingers of whiskey. “You know my parents. They’d support me, sure. But it’ll cost them an opportunity in forging a valuable allegiance through a royal marriage. It’s a lot of guilt I don’t want to deal with.”

Azazel and Janos exchanged a glance. “You know,” Janos said slowly, “you can’t get married if...you’re not here.”

“What do you mean?” Erik raised an eyebrow at him.

“You can do what the other princes are doing,” Azazel said too readily, and suddenly it dawned on Erik that this was something his two court advisors had already discussed.

“Yeah, like going on quests and shit,” Janos suggests.

Erik opened his mouth to say what a ridiculous idea this was. But no words came out, because _this plan might actually work_.

“Think about it.” Azazel pushed himself up onto his knees, counting each point off on his fingers. “You get to build a fearsome reputation, you have a valid reason to be away from court _and_ with your powers, you might actually help some people.”

“Huh,” Erik said, before he thoughtfully sipped at his whiskey. This idea might not be so far-fetched after all.

 

* * *

 

 

Because this was Janos’ and Azazel’s far-fetched idea to begin with, they were placed in charge of finding quests for Erik to go on.

“There are tales of a wild, fire-breathing dragon living in a cave on the edges of the Shadowlands,” Azazel said one day. Erik took that on as his first quest, and saddled his horse for a week’s ride, foregoing the convenience of teleportation in favour of more time spent away from court.

Erik agreed to two personal guards whom Sir Logan promised were the least stupid ones from his latest batch of trainees. Alexander was quiet and anti-social, and insisted on going everywhere with a vest that had a circular metal plate embedded in it. Sean was goofy and chirpy and insisted on chatting Erik’s ear off about the wonderful world of fish. Erik, having extensive experience at court, simply tuned him out with a bored expression, instead seeking out all the metal in the surrounding countryside that they were passing by. Genosha had plenty of it.

They slept in inns where they could, and camped in fields and clearings when they couldn’t. When they eventually reached the cave Azazel was talking about, they only found a very large lizard sunning itself on a rock. No dragon anywhere.

“This is ridiculous.” It was the first thing Alexander had said in days. “Where the hell is the damn dragon?”

“Awww man, I don’t want to kill a lizard,” Sean said in disappointment.

“But you would have been okay with a dragon,” Alexander scoffed. Erik was seriously starting to doubt Sir Logan’s judgement.

They spent another week riding back - well, a week and a half, because Erik wanted to stop by a weapons museum - and by the time Erik got back to court, he was informed that he had missed being called upon by the White Queen and the Duchess of Ironwood. Erik’s parents expected him to look disappointed, so he did.

“Anyway, tell us how you slayed the dragon, son,” the King said.

“Er, it went well,” Erik said, giving death warning glares to both Alexander and Sean. “In fact, it went so well that I may go on another quest yet.”

The King and Queen were sad but understanding, so after he received their blessing, Erik started ticking off all the possible quests on Azazel’s list.

After the ‘dragon’, there were sightings of a hydra menacing the villagers on Muir Island. Erik made the trek there and discovered it was only someone’s lost sheepdog who had gotten dirtied with seaweed and mud. They extended their stay so Sean could study all the fish he wanted.

Then Janos brought reports of a fearsome Moorish warrior who was challenging any man to defeat him in single combat. Instead, Erik and his squires discovered a most amicable, cheerful fellow named Armando who was actually seeking opponents in the ancient sport of pinball. As it turned out, Alexander was absolutely brilliant at it. They stayed a whole month this time.

Erik found an easy explanation when he was back at court. “I needed time to let my injuries heal,” he said as he knelt beneath his parents’ suspicious gazes. The court ooh-ed and aah-ed over their brave Prince Erik, but the Queen’s eyes were narrowed at him, and the King’s thunderous expression was obvious even to those at the back of the court.

Azazel had a sympathetic look on his face when he next spoke to Erik. “The King came to see me, and he insisted this was to be your _final_ quest,” he said gravely. “Good thing I saved the best for last.”

Ah well. Erik was only surprised that his parents had not caught on to his scheme earlier. “So, what would my last quest be?” He craned his neck to read the parchment, before groaning. “Wait, ‘rescue a princess?’ Really? What is this, the 1400s?”

“Mock it all you like,” Azazel said, sniffing disdainfully. “But this is the only quest you haven’t done. And there’s an _actual_ princess, by the way. She’s supposed to be very smart and very beautiful. So maybe if you make nice, the two of you can come to some sort of arrangement. Then you don’t have to marry the next foreign princess who pops up at court.”

Erik held his tongue, not entirely sure whether to confide in Azazel that princesses - whether they were smart, beautiful, dull or boring - weren’t exactly his wheelhouse.  
  


* * *

 

 Erik ventured out on his final quest alone, because Alexander was still moping over Armando and Sean was still moping over all his fish friends at Muir Island. Azazel actually offered to teleport Erik over this time, but he declined, wanting both more time and distance between himself and his inevitable royal obligations.

Two weeks of leisurely riding brought Erik to the Enchanted Forest, which lay on the borders of Genosha. With his fingers splayed out in front of him, Erik closed his eyes and allowed his power to stretch forth. “Where are you…” he muttered to himself, before suddenly sensing the iron frame of a tower, tall enough to only just peek over the tops of the trees. Ah, it was somewhere in the middle of the forest.

Urging his restless horse forward, they soon cantered into a clearing, and Erik blinked at the tall, round stone tower he had sensed earlier, its solitary window facing east. Dismounting his horse, Erik quickly circled the tower to get his bearings. There seemed to be only two entry points: a heavy oak door that was bolted with something non-metallic, as well as the window he had spotted earlier. Erik guessed that was where the princess would be waiting for her supposed knight in shining armour.

Well, it was probably polite to announce his presence first before he went barging in, or something.

Standing under the window, he hesitated a little. What was the right etiquette in these kind of situations? He settled for shouting, “Princess, I have come to rescue you!”

No response.

Erik was about to yell again when a head popped out of the window. It was an irate woman, her long blonde ringlets dangling down as she shouted, “Go away, no one needs any rescuing here!” before disappearing.

Erik frowned, scratching his head. Azazel and Janos hadn’t briefed him on how to react in situations like this. Well, since he had come all this way, he might as well attempt to finish the quest before chalking it up to a lost cause.

Turning back to his horse, Erik reached out and beckoned, and the long iron chain he had been keeping in his saddlebag came sailing out like a silver ribbon, a grappling hook dangling from one end. He directed the chain over to the window, making sure the hook was firmly snared on the ledge. Tugging it once, it felt relatively secure so Erik made his way up, keeping a magnetised grip on the chain.

When he tumbled through the window, the last thing he expected to see was a _very_ attractive man reclining on a king-sized bed. He was flicking through the pages of a book, apparently bored. Erik managed to tear his gaze away, quickly scanning the room for the princess he had spoken to earlier. “Where is she?”

The man raised an eyebrow at him. “I told you, idiot, nobody here needs rescuing.” His tone was one of weary exasperation, as though he had repeated this statement several times before.

Something wasn’t quite right here. Erik had seen and heard the princess, clear as day. And now, she was nowhere to be found. Clearly this attractive fool was up to something.

“What have you done with her?” He brandished his sword, not quite liking the fact that this was the first quest where he might have to do some actual fighting.

The man rolled his eyes. Blue, Erik could see now. “The princess is taking a well-earned break from being constantly rescued, I’m afraid. It does take a toll on one’s sanity, you know.”

Erik was trying to process several things at once: the man’s posh accent ( _was he also royalty?_ ), the princess’ mysterious disappearance ( _witchcraft?_ ) and the way the man’s leggings outlined his ass so nicely ( _again, witchcraft_ ). “I don’t understand,” Erik said, trying not to let his eyes linger on the curve of that bewitching backside. “I spoke to the princess earlier.”

The man’s mouth was now slightly curving upwards, as though he were trying to contain a smile. “You mean, like this?” He lifted a hand and placed two fingers to his temple, and suddenly Erik was staring at the missing princess, who was wearing the same devilish half-smirk. Then she took her fingers off her temple, and once again she was replaced by the mysterious - and unfairly enticing - prince.

Erik lowered his sword, a little mollified. The White Queen was rumoured to possess similar powers, which means that this man must be of the same species as her, along with Erik, Janos and Azazel. “You’re gifted.”

“And so are you.” The prince’s very blue eyes trailed down Erik’s body. “In more ways than one, it seems.”

Suddenly, Erik realised, this quest might turn out to be his most interesting yet.

The heated silence was broken by Erik floating his sword over to some far-flung corner of the room, letting it drop with a clatter. An obvious attempt at a truce, to show he meant no harm. “I’m Erik Lehnsherr, prince of Genosha.”

“Charles Xavier, prince of Westchester.” A firm handshake showed Charles had accepted his peace offering. He gestured towards Erik’s discarded sword. “Your power is quite extraordinary.”

“So is yours.” Erik tapped at his temple. “You had me believing you were a princess.”

Charles’ mouth - so red and unfairly moist - twitched with aborted laughter. “Sorry to disappoint you, then.”

“Who says I’m disappointed?” Erik said, and this time Charles did break into a smile. “Anyway, what happened to the real princess?”

“Oh, you mean Raven.” Charles made his way towards one of the two armchairs facing the window, folding himself gracefully into it. “She’s actually very happy here, and had no intention of marrying the several princes who came to ‘rescue’ her. I was one of them, actually.” His smile now had turned rueful.

Something odd twisted unpleasantly in Erik’s chest. “You wanted to marry her?”

Charles shook his head, much to Erik’s relief. “It was just...well, I’m sure you know what I meant when I say I wanted to get away from the palace.”

The idea of prospective matrimony waiting for him back home clouded Erik’s thoughts. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Erik said with a sigh, trudging over to join Charles in the other armchair.

“So it worked out to my benefit that Raven and I became friends since we had no interest in marrying each other,” Charles explained. “And now I just pop by to chase away unwanted suitors whenever she wants to take a break.”

“Quite a clever arrangement,” Erik said, which made a pleased blush rise in Charles’ cheeks. “You both get your freedom. Temporarily, anyway.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Charles sat up, gesturing around him. “And this place has amenities like you wouldn’t believe. A full kitchen, a wonderful bathroom, laundry facilities--”

“Laundry?” Erik perked up. He had been riding for two weeks with the same few clothes he had brought, and now he was sure he smelled pretty ripe.

“You’re welcome to throw your clothes into the wash. And you might as well take a bath, if you like.” Charles got to his feet and headed over to a small chest of drawers. “I’ll find you something to wear although…” Here he trailed off, and for some reason that enticing flush was back on his cheeks, “..we’re built rather differently, so--”

“Charles,” Erik said flatly, “For the past two weeks I’ve been sleeping in dirty little inns and, for one rainy night, I was stuck in a cave that I was quite sure I was sharing with a bear. So trust me, this is _heaven_.”

Charles was chuckling as he pulled out a tunic and breeches. “Glad to be of service.”

 

* * *

   
  


After an extremely delightful bath, which had been faultless except for the fact that Charles hadn’t joined him, Erik changed into a pair of breeches that were a little too short for him (and a bit loose in the backside area) and a tunic that left a pale slice of his abdomen exposed. He felt a little ridiculous as he waddled out in his borrowed clothes, but the way Charles’ eyes had widened as he took Erik in, that ridiculously blue gaze lingering on Erik’s bare stomach, made the sting of ridicule fade a little, at least.

They sat down for a simple dinner of bread and cheese, discussing the dull obligations of palace life. Charles was a learned man, a scholar who knew four languages (not as many as Erik, but still) and he displayed a very keen curiosity of the sciences. In turn, Erik told him about court life in Genosha, and how his parents expected him to marry and inherit the throne one day. Charles only nodded in commiseration, an unhappy twist to his mouth.

“That’s why I like to come here.” Charles’ gaze landed on the bookshelf on the right side of the room. “I have all the time in the world to read, and not be bothered by my mother about how a proper prince should ‘behave’.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Erik said sharply. “You should have the freedom to read as much as you want, study as much as you want. A man as brilliant as you should not be caged up like a songbird.”

“Oh.” Charles’ eyes were on him now, large and wondering. Erik felt something like a tendril of warmth prod at his mind. When he didn’t resist, there was a soft whisper of _thank you, my friend_ which left him breathless.

Erik cleared his throat, brushing the crumbs of bread off his hands. For some reason he felt oddly naked under Charles’ gaze, even if he was wearing his too-small clothes. “So what else do you do when you’re here?” Erik hated the way his voice sounded a little thick.

Blinking a little rapidly, Charles sat up and ran a hand through his hair, making it even more tousled and begging for Erik’s fingers to rake through it. “I do try and see if Raven wants a game of chess, but she’s not too keen on playing.”

Erik perked up at the mention of chess. “A game or two sounds good.”

After Charles brought out the board, Erik arranged the pieces while Charles went to fetch ‘something interesting’, his eyes lit up with promise. Erik chuckled when Charles returned from the kitchen with a jug of mead and two glasses. “Plenty more where that came from,” he promised.

“I haven’t had a real sip in ten years.” Erik was used to whiskey, yes, but not mead. The last time Erik had gotten drunk on mead, he and his friends had wreaked havoc on the city square, Janos destroying the ancient fountain with an accidental whirlwind. Erik despised the idea of not being in control of himself, so he had avoided mead. Until now, that was, and he had a feeling that with Charles around, his self-control might be tested once more.

They went through a few games and another jug of mead, and Charles was collapsing in laughter at Erik’s stories about his non-quests. The mead had loosened Erik’s mood and tongue, and Charles was fine company. After a while, Erik had completely lost track of who was winning or losing, and he only realised the time when he glanced at the window and saw it was fully dark outside.

“It is quite late.” Charles must have followed his gaze. He stood up, stretching like a cat before he glanced over at the bed. “There’s only one bed, but it is quite large and...you’re welcome to share, if you don’t mind.”

That alluring flush was back on Charles’ cheeks. For once, Erik wished he were a telepath so he could see what Charles was thinking. “That’s very kind of you,” he said gently.

Charles muttered something under his breath, and Erik thought he heard _‘a kind pervert, you mean’_ but he couldn’t be sure. “I’ll just go get ready for bed,” Charles said a little too brightly, while Erik tried to get his brain back on track after thinking about the words ‘Charles’ and ‘bed’ together.

Erik cleared the chess set and went to wash the glasses while Charles snuffed out most of the candles, leaving one so Erik could see. By the time Erik made it to bed, he could see the darkened outline of Charles under the sheets, smelling of the lavender soap he had used to wash his face. Then the dark outline shifted, and Charles was lifting his head. “Come to bed, Erik.”

Erik gritted his teeth, fists clenched. It was the most innocent of requests, Erik knew that, but the way Charles had said it - low, pleading, intimate - was making him harden. Ducking hurriedly under the sheets so that Charles wouldn’t get an eyeful, Erik reminded himself that he was in bed with a telepath. A _telepath_. Erik forced himself to think about dragons, pinball, Sean going on and on about fish. It wouldn’t do to think about the lingering scent of Charles’ soap, or to listen to his soft exhalations of breath.

They were probably a little too close, flank to flank, but Erik couldn’t bring himself to move away, not when Charles felt so nice and warm beside him. This was entirely different from the times he’d been forced to share quarters with Janos, Azazel or his squires while travelling. Charles was...special.

Forcibly shutting his eyes, Erik took a deep breath and exhaled, letting himself surrender to the drowsiness of the mead. It hadn’t affected him that much, but he refused to give it any allowance to let his inhibitions loose. He started counting to a hundred, not allowing himself to think about the man in bed beside him.  
  


* * *

 

When Erik woke, it was still dark outside and hair was tickling his nose. He jerked his head away, a little confused. He found himself staring down at Charles’ dark mop of hair, his back pressed up intimately against Erik’s chest. Somehow, in sleep, they had gotten entwined, Charles’ legs tangled in his. Erik panicked, wondering how Charles would react when he awoke and found Erik wrapped around him like an octopus.

Even worse, there was very clear evidence of how much Erik liked their new sleeping arrangements poking into Charles’ backside.

Attempting to gently dislodge his right arm from under Charles’ very warm and very nice body, Erik had managed to slide out half of it when Charles suddenly stirred and blinked his eyes open. “Erik?”

“Sorry,” Erik whispered, hoping against hope that Charles wouldn’t notice something prodding at his ass. “I’m just.-- let me move--”

“No, wait.” Charles wiggled backwards into the cradle of Erik’s hips, and gasped when he felt Erik’s erection. “ _Oh._ ”

Erik held his breath, mentally calculating how long it would take for him to pack and ready his horse if Charles told him to leave right now. But to his surprise, Charles only flipped over and drew himself closer so that he was sharing Erik’s pillow, their breaths warming each other’s faces.

“I had a very pleasant dream,” Charles said, surprising Erik. “A dream where I was in bed with a very handsome prince.”

Erik tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. “What happened in this dream?” If it weren’t for the mead, he might not have been so bold.

In the flickering light of the remaining candle, Erik could see Charles’ eyes drop to his lips. “We were kissing,” he said breathlessly. “And touching. And moving together. His body against mine, so hard and warm.”

Erik’s breath was coming short. “Tell me more,” he whispered, giving in to his desires and brushing back Charles’ hair.

“His hand was between my legs.” Charles’ smile was growing. “And then his _mouth_ , so warm and wet.”

Erik let out a gasp, pushing himself closer to Charles so that their lips brushed against each other. “Sounds like quite a dream,” he murmured, hooking an arm around Charles’ waist and pulling him in. Charles was just as hard as him, the long hot line of his erection burning against Erik’s belly.

“I’d like to continue it,” was all Charles said, before he claimed Erik’s mouth in a slow, wet kiss, startling a low groan out of Erik.

When Charles broke off the kiss, Erik flipped them over so that he was on top of Charles, and the second kiss was wetter, dirtier, Erik taking his time to explore Charles’ mouth to taste him. Charles was incredibly responsive, wrapping his legs around Erik’s hips as though to hold him in place while he claimed Erik’s mouth for himself. Erik let himself be taken, happily swallowing the muffled moans Charles was making.

They had to stop for air, and Erik took his opportunity to impatiently shimmy out of his clothes, before helping Charles do the same. Once they were done, Erik simply couldn’t take his eyes off the scores and scores of freckles dusted all over Charles’ shoulders and arms. He was magnificent, and Erik could spend all night licking every other freckle.

Once he’d looked his fill, Erik rested his cheek against Charles, ignoring the urge to rut down against him until he came all over Charles’ pale stomach. They kissed again, sweet and chaste this time. “Been wanting to do that since you climbed in through the window,” Charles admitted, panting.

Chuckling, Erik gifted him with another short kiss before brushing his hair back. Charles’ eyes seemed endless, and Erik found himself perfectly content to determine every detail about them: the startling blue of his irises, the blackness of his dilated pupils, the curve of his dark lashes. Then Charles grinned and leaned up, stealing another kiss. And another. And another, until Erik was lost in a haze of heat and want, his hands roaming all over Charles’ torso and circling a nipple, squeezing a bicep.

“Erik.” There was a tentative note in Charles’ voice that made Erik pause in his appreciation of Charles’ fair, astonishingly freckled body. “I-- I haven’t done this before.”

“Me too,” Erik confessed, hoping Charles could hear the truth ringing in his voice, or glean it from his mind. “The ladies-in-waiting at court never particularly interested me.”

“So you kept them waiting,” Charles quipped, making Erik shake with laughter. They traded a few more kisses, Erik glad that he had only found everyone else wanting because Charles hadn’t arrived yet.

Charles laid a hand on the nape of Erik’s neck, rubbing it in a way that sent wild tingles down Erik’s spine. “Keep doing that,” Erik begged as he nipped at Charles’ lips, which was red and kiss-swollen now. Erik simply couldn’t leave his mouth alone, running his thumb against Charles’ bottom lip before kissing him again.

Charles was starting to rock against him, both of them hissing every time their cocks brushed together. “Wait, wait,” Erik hissed before reaching down and wrapping his hand around both their erections, Charles already wet and slick against him. Using their precome to ease the way, Erik began pumping both of them in slow, upwards strokes, grinning at Charles’ cries of ecstasy as he gave himself over to Erik’s hand and Erik’s cock pulsing against his.

“Want to come,” Charles begged, hands gripping Erik’s backside. “Want to come together with you--”

“ _Yes_ , Charles,” Erik groaned, picking up the pace of his strokes. “You’re so _loud,_ I love it.” The idea of prim, proper, scholarly Charles, crying out in bed and coming undone by Erik’s hand, was something that would stay with Erik until the end of his days.

“I want to--” Charles gasped, and Erik felt more tendrils of thought beckoning at him, and he willingly threw his mind open, welcoming Charles with open arms.

Now it was Erik’s turn to gasp as a barrage of thoughts flooded in, Charles’ yearning and desire and lust magnified tenfold, and Erik could feel the contrary dual sensations of stroking his own cock and someone else doing it for him. Erik could see himself through Charles’ eyes: stunningly handsome, shoulders so broad they blocked out the light, his mind like a shining beacon, anchoring Charles in his moments of earth-shattering pleasure. Erik moaned as Charles slyly poured in an endless torrent of images he’d been harbouring all evening: Erik bent over Charles on all fours and pounding into him, Charles with his red, red mouth wrapped around Erik’s cock, Charles held captive with Erik’s chains, as Erik ravaged him senseless--

“Charles!” Erik shouted himself hoarse as he spurted white, ropey stripes of come all over Charles’ chest and belly, and Charles squeezed his ass before joining Erik over the edge, moaning Erik’s name like it was the sexiest thing in the world. Erik held him close, both of them panting and sweating as Erik scrambled to get his brain back online, a little rueful as he felt Charles withdrawing.

“Don’t,” Erik said, as Charles’ eyebrows jumped up in surprise. “It….it felt nice.”

Beaming, Charles wrapped his arms around Erik as his presence flooded back into Erik’s mind, all sated and content warmth. They remained like that, linked in body and mind, and Erik pressed his nose against the pale line of Charles’ neck, letting sleep claim him again.  
  


* * *

  
  


The next time Erik awoke, it was already light, and he still had his arms full of a sleeping Charles. At some point in the night he had tugged the sheets over them, and he was about to pull them back when someone sat down heavily on the bed and did it for him. “Good morning Charles--” a blonde woman sang, before her eyes widened in horror at Erik and she jumped away from the bed.

“Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my bed?” she demanded to know. This must be the real Princess Raven.

Erik felt Charles shifting beside him, pushing himself to a sitting position. “Um--that would be me,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes sleepily. Even now, with Charles’ bedhead and an angry princess confronting them, Erik still wanted to rugbytackle Charles to the mattress again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?” Raven seemed both genuinely curious and hurt.

Charles glanced over at Erik, who only offered him a very wide grin. “We, um, we must met yesterday.” Charles gave her what seemed to be his most winning smile.

Raven cocked an eyebrow, and she gave Charles a flat stare, which just made him more sheepish. The long silence that followed meant there must be a telepathic conversation going on, and for once Erik was glad he was not part of it. “I’m going to wash my face,” Erik said, getting up before remembering he was stark naked, and Charles quickly threw his breeches at him while Raven ogled appreciatively.

“Does he have a brother?” he heard Raven asking, before he shut the bathroom door.  
  


* * *

 

Breakfast was a rather muted affair, because Erik was truly hungry after last night’s activities and was eating his fill, and Raven and Charles seemed to be continuing their telepathic conversation. Erik couldn’t help wondering what they were talking about, because the corners of Charles’ mouth were tugged down in misery, and Erik hated seeing him like that.

He was also wondering how to broach the topic of inviting Charles to follow him on his travels. Erik still wasn’t sure if he wanted to head back to Genosha, or perhaps travel on to Westchester and see what the kingdom was truly like. His parents had once visited Westchester without him, and Erik had regretted not following them earlier and perhaps getting to know Charles then. Still, better late than never.

As they were finishing their tea, Charles looked positively miserable now, poking at a stray cube of sugar. “Well, that was fun. So Erik, what would be your next quest?”

Raven stood up, probably sensing that this was going to be a private conversation. “I’ll go get your washed clothes, Erik.”

“Thanks.” Erik watched her leave, then turned back to Charles who was worrying at his lip in a very adorable way that made Erik want to soothe it with a lick.

“I mean, you could always rescue another princess,” Charles continued, running a hand through his hair as it flopped back. “Just because it was a lost cause with Raven, it doesn’t mean there aren’t others.”

Erik was a little surprised, to say the least. After what they had shared yesterday, Erik had been rather hoping that Charles would want to remain by his side, at least for a while.

“Unless you were thinking of heading home?” Charles said tentatively, then his eyes widened as Erik stood up and walked over to his side of the breakfast table.

“I want you by my side,” Erik said, before leaning down and kissing him gently, brushing the crumbs from his soft, wet lips. “Will you come with me? We’d make quite a formidable team, don’t you think?”

There was a strange sense of warmth emanating from Charles’ mind. “You mean...follow you on your quests?”

“We would ride double until we find a horse for you.” Erik pulled him to his feet, cupping Charles’ freckled cheek. Mentally, he gathered all the emotions Charles had inspired in him - acceptance, companionship, desire, something warm on the cusp of blooming - and shoved it in Charles’ direction, earning a gasp. “It would be nice to dodge royal responsibilities with someone by my side. It wasn’t fun, being alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Charles said immediately, claiming Erik’s mouth in a kiss.

“Nice to see you two have worked things out,” Raven said cheerfully as she came back with Erik’s laundry. “Now, go rescue some other princess, please.”

“No more rescuing princesses,” Charles said sternly, and Erik couldn’t help chuckling as he kissed Charles senseless.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
The next few weeks travelling with Charles were, by far, the most interesting in Erik’s life. They had differences in opinion over a variety of subjects that resulted in endless debates and arguments, and Erik was oddly grateful for the fact that he had met someone who was his equal, who was never afraid to push where he pulled. Charles’ gift was also incredibly useful on the road: bandits who had been intending to rob them suddenly became absent-minded or determined to join the priesthood, and guards who were commanded to return either prince home suddenly started clucking like chickens. They also met many others like them: a woman who could walk through walls, a man who could play with fire.

One night, as they were dining at a tavern, there was a sudden ‘poof’ of sulphur and Azazel materialised before them, sending the other customers running and screaming about the end of days. “Dude, what happened to you?”

“Azazel, this is Charles, the prince of Westchester,” Erik said, as though it were the answer to everything.

“How do you do?” Charles politely shook hands with an open-mouthed Azazel. The red bitemarks and bruises around his neck and throat were hard to hide, and Erik waited as Azazel took them all in, understanding slowly dawning on him.

“Well, comrade.” Azazel’s smile was sly now. “What shall I tell your parents?”

There was a pause during which Erik had a short telepathic conversation with Charles. When Charles nodded his assent with a wide smile, Erik said, “Tell them I’m coming home soon. And I’m bringing someone important with me.”

“We’ll all be glad to have you home,” Azazel said with a deep bow, before he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke. As it dissipated Erik could see Charles beaming at him, reaching out for Erik’s hand across the table, and of course Erik obliged, twining their fingers together.

 

THE END


End file.
